


just get me to the next day.

by defNotAlex



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mild Blood, Missionary Position, Mommy Issues, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Vaginal Sex, Violence, ew i know, mentions of the kamukura project, quite ooc, ventfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defNotAlex/pseuds/defNotAlex
Summary: you guessed it, ventfic.both need each other in some way. best not to think too much about it, hajime.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko/Hinata Hajime
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	just get me to the next day.

“look at you.”

“look at me.”

“poor soul.” her hand carefully slithers down his chest, vibrant red nails scraping over his shirt buttons. the space between them is cramped and physically warm. physically, because when hajime really thinks about it, he knows that there’s no emotional warmth.

his shoulders sag with a sigh. his episode has finally passed and now, even the smallest of thoughts exhaust him.

his energy is drained, and being with her doesn’t help his situation much, because he knows why she’s here. he knows, and he can’t blame her, because he allows her to be here each time.

it’s twisted karma, somehow. or yin and yang, this situation. he knows that she is purely using him for her own benefit, and it pains him immensely. but at the same time, she is the reason why he manages to survive these types of moments and days. he’s become dependent on something that is dependent on him, too. and he doesn’t mind how this all carries dark and negative undertones. how _she_ carries deathly, dark undertones. a woman in her nightgown, beautiful and elegant. it’s the corset and bra beneath that cinches and forms her, but a man with even the littlest of sense knows how to admire a woman like that from afar, and take her apart in the dark. in the night when secrets stay secrets and only memory is of aid. there's nothing as depressing as thinking poetically of her.

he and enoshima are an absurd pair. truly.

her finger ghosts over the sliver of exposed skin at the bottom of his shirt, and she pushes the fabric up higher to make room for her thumb. surprisingly, her hand is ice cold, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

“you feel like a corpse.” he murmurs and leans closer, head leaning onto her shoulder. her push-up turns her cleavage into a canyon from his perspective, but it does little to nothing for him at that moment.

she scoffs, “a beauty like me? dead?”, and her voice is too loud for his senses, so he pushes his ear harder against her side. she makes a displeased sound, but lets it go in favor of pushing the pad of her thumb against his lower stomach. it’s a threatening touch, and he knows what she’s trying to do.

she can’t cause him physical harm, not while he’s in this vulnerable state. so, she opts for the next best thing each time. 

“throw up for me?”, she asks. her fake eyelashes glob together as she tries to bat her eyes at him. big and round, but not like a puppy. like a little child that killed her hamster and is asking for a new one. two voids, deprived of any remorse.

he groans and moves his hand around her wrist, easing the pressure she already has on his intestines. the word impressive flashes through his brain for a moment. impressive how they had managed to get this far at all. from her hunting down his dorm and interrogating him with her sister about the izuru kamukura project, to him spending another post-episode bliss in her lap, head against her shoulder and her heartbeat in his ears. she is a natural at this, somehow. she and her.. dare he say it.. nursing and comforting presence that’s able to drive any man into the nearest psych ward. 

impressive also, how he doesn’t really refuse her requests. he is reluctant, yet he doesn’t regret it when he cuts off his own internal dialogue and lets go of her hand.

with, what seems to be all her strength, she pushes her thumb into his stomach and tilts her head to grin at him. it’s sinister and appalling, but he can’t bring himself to associate it with anything other than the feeling of ecstasy that licks at his spine as he starts to retch. both of his hands instinctively shoot up and clasp around his mouth in a poor attempt to stop what’s coming.

yet, just as he’s about to throw up in her lap, she retracts her hand from his form and watches him push the vomit that had built up in his mouth, back down his throat. it’s a vile sight, him and his red and wet eyes forcing down burning acid that had managed to leak into the palms of his hands. his skin is light purple where she has left a crescent-shaped imprint of her stupidly long nails.

fully drained of any energy that he might’ve had before, hajime lets his arms sag and drops his stained hands onto the part of her open thighs that her ridden up skirt usually covers. his breath is rancid and a string of drool trails down his lip, onto her chest. she grimaces and starts an attempt at shrieking, yet hajime bangs his sweaty and pounding forehead against her jaw.

startled, enoshima flinches and subconsciously pushes hajime closer to her.

taking the opportunity that’s been handed to him, he moves his face into her peripheral and lays his lips against hers. he’s slimy and sour on her while she tastes faintly of perfume and chemicals. thick, red lipstick swirls around his tongue, it blocks his senses as she bites his bottom lip.

hajime sighs into her mouth, small and calm. “fetish for vomit, huh?”

it’s a meaningless, empty question that she doesn’t bother answering. rather, she busies herself with his buttons again. this time, popping them open one by one as his tongue finally makes contact with hers.

enoshima’s hands are still fairly cold against his heated skin, more and more noticeably so the closer she gets to his belt. his arms continue to hang lifelessly from his shoulders, no real aid in the matter as his fingers lazily play with the hem of her panties. silky, red, and absurdly small.

he doesn’t really bother helping anyway, he knows she’s just as wet for him as he is hard for her. which, comically, is _not at all_ , he realizes as she wrestles her fingers into his uniform pants without undoing them and grasps hold of his soft dick through his boxers.

sensitive, he whines pathetically against her lips and pleads her to open his pants. relief some of the pressure of her nails on his balls. mentally, though, he’s grateful for his belt and the weird angle of her wrist for keeping her from overshooting and fingering him by accident again.

she makes an unpleased sound, yet gives in and unbuckles his clunky belt with her free hand. his zipper rolls open on its own, and the moment all restraints disappear, enoshima’s snaps the elastic of his briefs against his dick before she pulls them down. his legs clasp around her waist and he gasps in surprise.

hajime reluctantly moves his right hand over junko’s who managed to grasp hold of his balls again, yet in an attempt to shake him off, enoshima pushes further against him and scrapes her nails against his taint. his knees tremble and his dick twitches sadly as he whimpers pathetically into her mouth and breaks off the kiss.

hajime’s tongue rolls out of his mouth again and his head feels heavy, so he leans it against her throat. his hair brushes against her jaw and his skull presses against her esophagus. she tries to make a sound, but opts to knock her chin against his head, sneering. “piss off, retard. i don’t need you damaging my precious vocal cords with your thick fucking skull.”

with a droopy smile, he moves his head to the left, then his right hand in a way that makes him hold onto her hip. hajime strokes his thumb over her side with lazy movements, pinching and folding her skin occasionally. he must really look out of it because she stops her messy fumbling and lets go of his dick to focus on what he’s so occupied with.

enoshima clicks her tongue and bats at his wrist, lightly scratching the thin layer of skin there with her claws. “you’re just like _him_ , obsessed with your weird breeding complexes.” he scrunches his brows and makes a low sound in the back of his throat, ready to refute whatever she’s trying to get at, yet before he can she clamps his lips between her index and thumb. “just get on with it, loverboy.” she says, dismissively.

his shoulders manage to sag even more somehow, eyes heavy with disappointment. he knows that she has better places to be, more important people to be with. his right eye unfocuses, one part of his brain insists that she wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t ‘important’. the other side argues that even if he is important, mentally he will never satisfy her. and somehow, this is alright, he decides within the span of seconds. she needs him for now and he needs her for now. and that’s all it is, a reason to get him to the next day. 

he presses his fingers against her hip again before he lets them drop to her underwear. expectantly, she watches him fumble around her thighs before she grows impatient and slaps his hand away. with an annoyed and exaggerated sigh, enoshima hooks her index around her thong and pulls it aside, exposing her bleached glistening pussy to the cold air of the room.

hajime whines against her neck, his hand flexing on her thigh in order to restrain himself. finally, he’s starting to get into it. too many times was he forced to finger junko without managing to get his dick up. sometimes, it's his thoughts that are just too mangled up. other times, he’s being asked by the preparational medical team to try a new medication to test his allergic tolerance towards it. and somehow, it always manages to break him a little when he can’t even perform such a mundane human task as getting his dick erect. especially when enoshima offers to blow him once in a blue moon and all he can do is shake his head and bite his lip apologetically. 

she spits into her free hand and clasps it around his dick, twisting her palm up in a rough and careless manner. hajime hisses under his breath and takes his own hand from her leg in favor of taking over the job of jacking his dick until he’s properly hard. as nice it would be to just sit and have her pepper him with attention, he knows that she likes playing aggressive pillow princess. and he knows that playing by her flute will earn him more brownie points. 

brownie points. jesus christ was he childish.

with new determination and a significantly emptier brain, hajime swings his arm behind himself and grabs hold of her leather-clad ankle. her boots are still on and a shiver runs down his back as his fingertips ghost over the shoelaces. the idea of her piercing his head with her heel crosses his mind for a moment and makes his cock twitch between his legs. he reluctantly moves into a kneeling position after he props her foot up against his own shoulder, just like how she usually likes it. the stretch burning behind her knee and in her thigh.

with fingers coated in saliva, hajime spreads enoshima’s folds and teases at her entrance. his first time was awkward and jittery, full of shy glances and unsure movements. with an unbearable amount of frustration enoshima had taught him what _she_ liked. now, he performs like practiced. if he disassociates too much he can even feel it becoming a second nature of sorts. 

getting no reaction from the girl underneath him, he starts to slowly ease his index into her, quickly following it up with a second finger upon feeling how loose she is. once he is halfway in, he tries to aim upwards in search of that _one_ special spot.

his short nails scrape against her walls and hajime can see her pinched face in the corner of his eyes, yet he opts to ignore it in favor of catering to a different kink she has. that is, if you can even call it a kink to begin with.

he doesn't manage to find _that_ spot, but he does manage to twist and move his fingers in a way that has light red blood running out of her and down to his wrist. carefully, he pulls away to let her look and praise his handiwork. enoshima leans up onto her elbows before she musters getting onto her hands. she leans her head against her own knee as she looks down at the red glistening mess between her legs. 

at first, it's a simple giggle, but after awhile it shifts into a full grown laugh. her body trembles and hajime can see her cunt clamping down on nothing. he would've gulped audibly if it weren't for her noisiness.

"you tell a man you like virgin-play and he won't stop obsessing over the idea. you're even worse of a pervert than anyone else i've fucked with!", she barks in his face. 

flustered, hajime pushes her back by her shoulders. she falls with a _'huff'_ and glares up at him, ready to throw a tantrum, but before she can even attempt to get a word out, hajime leans forward onto his left arm, caging her in, and finally takes hold of his cock. he bites his bottom lip as he smears a mixture of blood and _enoshima_ onto his dick.

with a particularly quick stroke, he thrusts his hips forward into his hand and by accident against her vagina. 

having grown impatient, she clasps her right hand around his arm thats leaning against the mattress and starts shaking it back and forth as hard as she can, like a child rattling on her playpen cage. her eyebrows are pulled together in frustration and she's gnawing on her bottom lip. 

her bottom lip. her beautiful bottom lip. wet and plump and soft and- 

hajime is distracted again and that's all it takes for enoshima to snap and push her hips off the bed with the help of her leg that's propped up against his shoulder. with a little bit of aiming, hajime's dick catches on her entrance and easily slips in. she grunts under her breath before an exaggerated moan shakes her body.

enoshima snaps her arms around hajime's neck and pulls him in. her knee twists outward a little and the stretch hurts like a motherfucker, but that doesn't stop her from pulling her other leg up and against his ass to keep him in place. 

a moan that resembles a sob practically rips through hajime. it’s wet and soft and even though enoshima is not the type to fancy the use of condoms, they’ve never went without one before.

his arms feel weak and he gets pushed further in by junko. somehow its tighter than before.

overwhelmed, hajime goes to pull out, yet all he can muster is move a bit before falling right back into place.

and that’s how they build up a rhythm. they’re slow and rather awkward in the beginning, as per usual. hajime dares to take a glance down, where they’re joined.

there’s faint red marks that scrape up his dick each time he pulls out, but the thing that actually catches his eye is how wet enoshima is. her clit is glistening and only now is he registering the sound that echos in the room each time he thrusts up into her.

hajime does his best not to outright cum at the sight, so he adverts his eyes back at enoshima’s face, who is busy twirling her hair and scrolling her phone now. he hadn't even noticed her moving her arms from his shoulders.

her cheeks might be cherry red and there might be sweat running down her brow, but her expression is calm and collected, if not borderline bored.and as if she read his mind, she says “you took too long to get started and now i don’t care anymore. finish so i can go.”

she knows how to play him like a fiddle, and if it weren’t for the fact that she was very obviously trying to see him succumb to his own thoughts and despair right now, he wouldn’t even mind fulfilling that order of hers. yet, he knows that she needs this just as much as she does.

she needs this and he’s just a fucking people pleaser.

hajime plants both of his hands higher up on the mattress. her leg strains and aches at this point, but he can’t be bothered when she clenches down on him harder. with new vigor, he starts to properly plow into her.

her foot in the back isn’t supporting anything anymore, it swings and trembles in the air every time hajime snaps his hips forward into her cunt. his dorm bed creaks in the background, hammering against the wall and waking up some poor student next to him, yet with enoshima’s luck, whoever lives there is probably having the time of his life with his right hand.

especially, when hajime and his stupidly sensitive, circumcised dick hits the opening of her crevix by accident and makes her gasp. enoshima's reaction feels staged, yet he can see her eyes unfocusing on the screen and her arm slowly dropping her phone until it finally hits the bed with a dull ‘ _thump’_.

he notes that she hasn’t taken her shirt off when a particularly hard thrust forces one of her tits to slip out of her bra. she must notice too, because she hurries to unclasp her shirt and decorative tie before pulling her bra down in one single, harsh, movement.

as much as he would like to dwell on how _rare_ it is that she forgot to brag about her boobs, he is too occupied with how they move along with him. it’s not the first time that he’s seen or felt them, even had them in his mouth for hours, but each time is somehow just as enticing as the first.

so, with one swift push, he slips enoshima’s foot off his shoulder and leans fully forward. her knee creaks apart and her leg bounces onto the mattress with the unexpected force. her spine stretches off the bed from the feeling, coming up to meet hajime and his open mouth.

in her clothing, she is junko enoshima. a highly popular high school girl that gives hajime a feeling of nausea and distress. yet, having her underneath him, skin exposed and those tiny gestures that make her feel more vulnerable, hajime can’t help but drool like a dog.

her tits might be pretty, but when she’s laying down like this, getting plowed like a bitch, they look flat and imperfect. they fall apart and aren’t the perkiest he’s ever seen, and each time he fucks up into her, he can see one, two birthmarks underneath, exposing themselves.

he nuzzles into her chest and pants hot air against her skin, before he kisses up to one of her nipples and takes it into his mouth.

usually, enoshima likes to laugh at him for doing that, especially on the days where she comes by just to jerk him off. today, on the other hand, she gasps and pushes him closer by his neck, scraping her nails along his skin in a painful manner.

caught up in his own world, hajime starts mumbling against her. low vibrations buzz through her body and she knows that this is the most pliant that he’s going to get.

his eyes are tightly closed and his mouth hangs open against the skin of her chest. occasionally his teeth will run over her nipple with his thrusts, while drool is starting to pool in her cleavage.

disgusted, yet intrigued, she grimaces as best as she can in her worked up state and calls out to him in order to snap him back. most of the time, she’ll let him lose his mind until he comes. the spirals in his eyeswhen the pleasure gets too much and his brain goes back to its most primal state is just too good to pass up on. but now she wants to see him _break._

“hey fucktoy! stop being useless for once and start getting me off.”, she snarls. his reaction is immediate. snapping his eyes open, he twists his neck up to look at her. the angle is fucked and he can see her makeup caking from the sweat and the skin under her chin bunching up slightly.

it’s so humane. having sex with her somehow is not this weird bdsm nightmare that hajime had been afraid of the first time they got around to it. she has her unusual kinks, sure, so does he after all. but this feels like a completely different side of her that only he- or probably the guys she sleeps with regularly, end up seeing.

for the first time, he _actually_ doesn’t mind the implications that this might just be another character of her. someone that she just plays because she knows it’ll affect him the most. he feels touched even, that she put this much thought into manipulating him.

he thinks he's ok with it all now.

yet in real time, enoshima is angered by his lack of response towards her teasing. she decides to push further, as she is getting annoyed with his shallow thrusts and hazy gaze. this time, she barks properly.

“ugh! c’mon reverse course. show me you’re worth becoming an ultimate.”

that's when hajime’s hips came to a halt suddenly. he stared down at enoshima who was quietly observing the situation with her signature agitated face. careully, he bend his elbows and fully laid himself on top of her. face pressed against her neck and breath evening out. 

now, enoshima was prepared to face whatever kind of reaction he was usually prone to show. his stupidly manly acts of biting down his emotions in order to save what’s left of his dignity. sometimes, he goes as far to scream and yell at her, even if it was soon to follow a heavy hearted apology.

he might finally even snap and bite or punch her throat. maybe break her arm.

though, what she wasn’t expecting was for coldness to streak down her shoulder and down to her back. wet tears were pressed against her skin, accompanied by a silent sob that broke out into louder, more pained attempts of suppressed crying.

with a raised brow, she slowly threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled, hard.

face blotchy and red, hajime did his best to look down at her through his barely open eyes. there were tears building up on his jaw, dropping onto her cleavage and drying on her hot skin.

he looked pathetic, and enoshima was no stranger to letting him know just exactly that.

“you look like a real mommy’s boy now.”

with a hefty sob, his face broke in a wobbly smile.

action and reaction. enoshima’s free hand had been roaming the side of the bed, unaware to hajime and his internal conflicts. so, extremely pissed by the outcome of how things had developed, enoshima slung hajime’s bedside lamp by its cord with a hefty pull against his head.

the telltale sound of breaking porcelain echoes through the room as the pieces crumble and rain past her. there is a moment of thick silence between them where they both just stare at each other. hajime’s expression washed off his face, leaving a blank canvas thats void of anything that might give enoshima a final kick of satisfaction.

then, he falls onto his side, body crashing into the broken porcelain pieces that lay scattered around the other side of the bed. eyes now closed, he rests there, soundlessly, passed out and bleeding from the back of his head onto his neck and bedding.

completely unaffected by her doings, enoshima sits up and starts to adjust her clothing. she claps her bra and shifts her shirt back into place, before she gets up and snaps her thong out of her wet pussy. the bed dips and moves from the action, yet hajime remains motionless.

rendered unsatisfied, she swipes her hand over her neck and collar, palms sticky with dry tears and disgusting sweat.

with a laugh, she leaves his room without a second glance, very well aware that hajime isn’t going to be able to remember her, except for the presence of raw emotions that she had managed to invoke within him.

pure and unreasonable. the beginnings of unexplainable obsession. she can't wait to meet him again after yasuke gets his talented fingers involved in the matter.

**Author's Note:**

> why leave your hate in my comments when you can just not do that. please.


End file.
